Forever in Darkness (novella) (Order of the Blade #4) by Stephanie Rowe Page B
Authors: Stephanie Rowe
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his mind move past the poison, searching for the core of who
she was. He could do nothing for her until their connection was so tight that
it was as if they were one.
But he couldn't find her inner
spirit. All he could see was poison, pain and fear. It was as if her soul
didn't exist, or that it was blocked from him. He swore as he felt her energy
beginning to fade, and he shoved more ruthlessly at her barriers, desperate to
get through.
Nothing.
What's going on, Ian?
Nothing. It's fine. Realizing
he needed help, Ian pulled away from her and redirected his mind toward the
earth beneath them, the ground that his ancestor had been buried in. He reached
into the soil, and immediately felt the ripple of power from the males buried
in the cemetery, males that had been stripped of life before their time. He
connected with the power of his ancestors, and it surged through him, vibrating
though him.
He called upon it, bringing it into
his body. Energy began to flow through him, like hot sparks crackling through
his body. He kept pulling it in, more and more, until his entire body was
vibrating from the force of it.
He pulled Catherine tighter against
him, opened the connection between them as much as he could, and then thrust
the energy into her, attacking the shields that were keeping him out. She
jerked against him, and her body bowed from the onslaught of power…and it
didn't work.
The walls were still there. Crap!
Ian. It's not working. Her
voice was fainter now, weighted with the agony of her approaching death.
No! I'll get this— His
weapons suddenly burned his arms, a violent warning of a threat.
Ian instantly cut off his
connection to Catherine and called out his weapons as he leapt to his feet. His
flanged mace exploded into his hand as he spun toward the male who had attacked
Catherine in the bar, who was streaking across the graveyard toward them,
moving so fast he was almost a blur. His eyes were glowing green, and his
entire body was carrying a faint green glow.
"You don't get to have
her!" Ian hurled his mace as he charged Flynn. The male didn't even bother
to duck. He just let the mace hit him in the chest, tore it out of his body and
hurled it aside without even breaking stride.
Son of a bitch. Flynn was even
stronger than he'd been in the bar. What the hell was he?
The two males collided with a crash
that shook the very earth, and Flynn careened across the graveyard, thrown
almost a hundred yards by the force of the impact. Ian went down hard, and he grimaced
at the pain as he leapt back to his feet. At least three ribs were cracked, and
his shoulder had been dislocated, but as he watched, Flynn rolled onto his
side, already recovering.
So, this was war, then.
Ian's mind quieted, and he went
into the calm, focused place of battle. His senses zeroed in on the male
struggling to his feet, and he assessed Flynn with the efficient vigilance of a
warrior who had been fighting for more than six hundred years. He surged past
the male's bulk and muscle, looked past the crazed energy flowing off him, and
ignored the green glow that seemed to obscure him almost to the point that Ian
couldn’t see him physically. Ian eliminated all distractions until he could
feel the essence of his enemy and was attuned to every twitch of his muscles.
He was ready.
Flynn moved suddenly, leaping to
his feet to attack, and Ian responded instantly as Flynn hurled a glowing green
disc at him. Ian cut it down with a stroke of his mace as he raced toward Flynn.
He swung hard with the mace, and Flynn blocked the first blow with a move
faster than Ian had seen on anyone except other Order members.
Another stroke, another blow, and
the males were locked in battle, dead even, one man focused and sane, the other
so insane with fury and violence. "Stand down," Ian shouted. "I
don't want to kill you." Ian had one job: to protect the world from rogue
Calydons. This male wasn't a Calydon, so he wasn't Ian's problem—except for the
fact
she was. He could do nothing for her until their connection was so tight that
it was as if they were one.
But he couldn't find her inner
spirit. All he could see was poison, pain and fear. It was as if her soul
didn't exist, or that it was blocked from him. He swore as he felt her energy
beginning to fade, and he shoved more ruthlessly at her barriers, desperate to
get through.
Nothing.
What's going on, Ian?
Nothing. It's fine. Realizing
he needed help, Ian pulled away from her and redirected his mind toward the
earth beneath them, the ground that his ancestor had been buried in. He reached
into the soil, and immediately felt the ripple of power from the males buried
in the cemetery, males that had been stripped of life before their time. He
connected with the power of his ancestors, and it surged through him, vibrating
though him.
He called upon it, bringing it into
his body. Energy began to flow through him, like hot sparks crackling through
his body. He kept pulling it in, more and more, until his entire body was
vibrating from the force of it.
He pulled Catherine tighter against
him, opened the connection between them as much as he could, and then thrust
the energy into her, attacking the shields that were keeping him out. She
jerked against him, and her body bowed from the onslaught of power…and it
didn't work.
The walls were still there. Crap!
Ian. It's not working. Her
voice was fainter now, weighted with the agony of her approaching death.
No! I'll get this— His
weapons suddenly burned his arms, a violent warning of a threat.
Ian instantly cut off his
connection to Catherine and called out his weapons as he leapt to his feet. His
flanged mace exploded into his hand as he spun toward the male who had attacked
Catherine in the bar, who was streaking across the graveyard toward them,
moving so fast he was almost a blur. His eyes were glowing green, and his
entire body was carrying a faint green glow.
"You don't get to have
her!" Ian hurled his mace as he charged Flynn. The male didn't even bother
to duck. He just let the mace hit him in the chest, tore it out of his body and
hurled it aside without even breaking stride.
Son of a bitch. Flynn was even
stronger than he'd been in the bar. What the hell was he?
The two males collided with a crash
that shook the very earth, and Flynn careened across the graveyard, thrown
almost a hundred yards by the force of the impact. Ian went down hard, and he grimaced
at the pain as he leapt back to his feet. At least three ribs were cracked, and
his shoulder had been dislocated, but as he watched, Flynn rolled onto his
side, already recovering.
So, this was war, then.
Ian's mind quieted, and he went
into the calm, focused place of battle. His senses zeroed in on the male
struggling to his feet, and he assessed Flynn with the efficient vigilance of a
warrior who had been fighting for more than six hundred years. He surged past
the male's bulk and muscle, looked past the crazed energy flowing off him, and
ignored the green glow that seemed to obscure him almost to the point that Ian
couldn’t see him physically. Ian eliminated all distractions until he could
feel the essence of his enemy and was attuned to every twitch of his muscles.
He was ready.
Flynn moved suddenly, leaping to
his feet to attack, and Ian responded instantly as Flynn hurled a glowing green
disc at him. Ian cut it down with a stroke of his mace as he raced toward Flynn.
He swung hard with the mace, and Flynn blocked the first blow with a move
faster than Ian had seen on anyone except other Order members.
Another stroke, another blow, and
the males were locked in battle, dead even, one man focused and sane, the other
so insane with fury and violence. "Stand down," Ian shouted. "I
don't want to kill you." Ian had one job: to protect the world from rogue
Calydons. This male wasn't a Calydon, so he wasn't Ian's problem—except for the
fact
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